On Wings Like Eagles
by P.J. Vargas
Summary: With Woad, Roman, Sarmatian, and Saxon blood coursing through her veins, a steadfast devotion to her God and her companions, and an unwavering faith placed upon Britain and its people, Benedicta Certus finds herself in the middle of a war between her people for a land she believes is destined to be ruled by one king and one king alone.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

By 300 AD, the Roman Empire extended from Arabia to Britain. But they wanted more. More land. More people loyal and subservient to Rome. Those who opposed them were conquered and those who they could not conquer were made allies. Yet these people were only servants called by another name for Rome became as much a domineering force as their countries' individual empires.

For many, Rome was the delivering hand their country needed. For others, it was only an escape. Many joined the Roman military and left their homeland. Poor. Rich. Orphans. Outcasts. Traitors.

My men were such people.

Too late were they made aware that they had escaped one hell to enter another.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold air was a warm welcome that she had not grown accustomed to missing even in the year that she had been away from this beautiful land. The weather of Britain was unstable. Two weeks ago upon landing their ship on the British shore, the day had been bright and the air warm. A day later, grey, menacing clouds had gathered and hail had fallen from the dark skies above them soon followed by a day of snow. Days later, it had rained without seize causing the snow to melt away or turn to ice.

Before her, down the high drop that she gazed from atop, a vast distance of blue trees resting upon grey hills expended to the horizon. A white mist covered the woods and gave the landscape a mysterious appeal.

By God, she had missed this place.

An amused smirk crept up her face. Yes, this place was an appropriate hide out for the so called "blue ghosts".

The sound of hooves drew louder as they rapidly approached. Five horses mounted by five men came to a stop next to her. "Now I remember why I hate Britain," said Aurelius grimly as he halted his horse to her left. He beckoned forward. "There is a storm brewing ahead."

Sure enough, dark clouds were gathering in the horizon. It was only a matter of time before they were upon them. She glanced at her men. They were tired and hungry as she also was. These last two weeks had been long and exhausting, with little rest and comfort. Night was drawing near, as was the storm. They needed to rest and regain their strength for she knew, with no easy heart, that this journey was only the beginning of many hardships to come.

"What is the matter, Aurelius?" Alcaeus asked teasingly, almost derisively.

"Cannot stand a little foul weather? And here I thought Romans could withstand anything."

Another voice, quieter, yet no less firmer spoke before Aurelius could answer to the remark. "If such were true, the Romans would stay and fight instead of abandoning Britain and leaving it to the Saxons."

Acacius nodded at Percival's words. "Even the Romans, stubborn as they are, see no reason in staying."

Aurelius, who had been occupied sending hostile glares at Alcaeus, returned his attention back at the scenery bellow. He sighed. "They leave and we come. I question whether we will be of any help. The Saxons are many in number and with the Romans leaving, it all seems like a lost cause."

"And that is why we are here on an important mission, Aurelius," she reminded him. Her gaze bore into his as she spoke. "Our people need us. Now more than ever."

"And you offer them help by going against your other people," he replied, evident disapproval accompanying his words.

To anyone outside their group, it would seem as if Aurelius was against her disapproval of the imminent Saxon invasion, but they knew better than to believe that.

She sighed. There was no use arguing an exhausted topic. She turned to the silent man to her right. His light brown, exotic Keralite face stared ahead with its ever-present calm seriousness."Mahavir, ride ahead and see if you can find shelter for the night. We must rest-"

"Aye, that we must," agreed Alcaeus.

"-and then set forth in the morning."

With a silent nod, Mahavir turned his bay horse and rode away. The remaining five stared at the ominous clouds in a momentary revering, unsettling silence as one simple being stares upon a powerful force.

"I do not suppose that we can out ride it, can we, Benedicta?" asked Acacius.

Benedicta shook her head, her gaze fixed ahead. "I am afraid that we cannot escape this one."

* * *

Mahavir had found a cave for them to spend the night. It was free of any unwanted inhabitants and spacious enough for the company, as well as for the horses, to rest comfortably. Benedicta had collected red berries from some shrubs she spotted near the cave and Percival ventured for a while out into the woods with a bow and a quiver of arrows and brought them back a deer while the remaining others collected water and wood to start a fire. They had all returned by the time the first drop of rain had fallen and the first gust of wind had howled.

After preparing the deer and cooking it over the fire, they had sat down around the flames and ate, talked, laughed, and simply enjoyed each other's company. They decided to to bask in the brotherhood and camaraderie that united them instead of in the business that had brought them to Britain. There was time for the latter, but they felt the inclination to enjoy the former for they knew that their mission was no small task, but a dangerous one.

"I do not know about you, my dear little brother," Alcaeus laughed, throwing an arm around his twin. "But when this ordeal is all over, I will go back to Greece and work until I can buy myself a nice piece of land to farm just like the one our father had when we were children."

"Wherever you go, Alcaeus, you know I shall follow," said Acacius with a grin matching that of his older twin.

"Will you marry and have a family?" Percival asked Alcaeus, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Oh, no," Acacius answered for his brother. "He does not deem it fair for only one woman to have claim over him."

There was a collection of amused snorts and snickers from the others. Percival threw a berry at Alcaeus intended to hit his head, yet which he swiftly caught in his mouth.

"And you, Acacius?" Aurelius inquired with a chuckle. "Will you follow in your elder brother's footsteps and entertain different women?"

"No, such lifestyle befits my brother, but not me. I wish to settle down and start a family."

"But you see, my dear friend," Aurelius said. "There is only one problem with that."

Acacius raised a brow in curiosity, his smile never slipping. "Oh, and what is that?"

"Why, you will never know if the children are yours or Alcaeus's."

The smile slipped. Acacius's glanced at his brother before doing a double take, as if seeing him for the first time. Alcaeus cast him a side long glance and smirked while wagging his brows. The others burst in a round of uncontrollable laughter upon seeing the younger twin's expression. Even Mahavir, in his cool demeanor, could not help the ghost of a smile that his lips formed into.

Benedicta watched all this with a slight air of detachment. Though she did find their conversation most amusing, the small smile that adorned her face was due more to the merriment in her companions' countenances than the topic at hand. She did not know of another sound nor sight in this world that could swell her heart with more affection than her men's joyful laughter or the amused glimmer in their eyes.

_Her men._

She swallowed the berry she had been chewing and pursed her lips upon feeling the painful knot that had formed in her throat. Such honor she felt she did not deserve; to be called their leader when she did not rise herself to such a position, but was risen by them nonetheless. To be respected because of the wisdom, love, and compassion they always testified of witnessing in her instead of being viewed as weak or inferior because of her gender and age. She was blessed, for though she had nothing, she felt as though she possessed all the riches in the world.

Yes, she was blessed; blessed to know such a friendship like the one she shared with them. And yet...

She stared at the flames that illuminated the dark tunnel with its orange light and listened to the whistling and thundering of the storm outside. The sound of the men's roaring laughter and teasing jokes slowly disappeared to her.

And yet here she was, leading them to fight in a cause not their own. To perhaps face certain death by the hands of the people who's blood she shared. They trusted her wholeheartedly and indefinitely. They trusted her and it frightened her to no end.

_'Oh, merciful Father,'_ she prayed. _'Once again I ask you to make me into the leader and friend that these men need for I find myself wanting. Guide me so I may guide them. Deliver them from whatever perils they might encounter in this journey and I will forever be grateful. Allow them to find the happiness and peace that they so deserve after our mission is complete in whatever path they decide to take. I ask for nothing else-'_

"-edicta."

_'-for this alone is enough. In the name the Fa-"_

"Benedicta."

Her thoughts were interrupted as she was pulled back from her daze. The men regarded her curiously, but the air was still light and happy. She looked at Acacius, recognizing his voice has having been the one to pull her back into awareness. His eyes shined with amusement upon seeing her confused expression.

"We lost you, my friend," said he. "Are we beginning to bore you? What has taken you away from us?"

She smiled. "Nothing of the sort, Acacius. I assure you. My mind simply wondered away with me again. Pray, what is it that you said?"

"What will you do after this?" Acacius asked. "Will you stay here in Britain?"

She could feel Aurelies's gaze boring into her. "If God so allows it, I would remain here, yes."

"Why?" Aurelius asked abruptly. "What is in Britain that keeps you here?"

"Nothing, just as well as there is nothing in Sarmatia or Rome-"

"Or Saxony;" Alcaeus added.

"No," she pursed her lips in a tight line. "Especially not Saxony. There is nothing for me there."

"But why Britain? You can go wherever you please. Spain, for instance; or Greece!" Acacius exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with a fondness that was always present when he spoke of his homeland. "You would love it there, Benedicta. The warm air. The boundless sky. Miles upon miles of open land. The intricate architecture of the temples. And the sea! It is breathtaking."

Benedicta could not help but smile at his energy. It was something that she always loved about Acacius. His untamable excitement and vitality always livened anybody's spirits.

"It does sound breathtaking," she agreed. "Yet there is something about this land that simply calls to my very soul. A beauty that I have not been able to find anywhere else."

"Are you sure it is not simply the cold and not beauty which you have found?"

Percival suggested goodheartedly. "Because I do not think I have ever been in a place as cold a Britain. If I miss anything about Sarmatia, it is the warmth of the sun."

"There is something else," she murmured to herself, her eyes beginning to take that distant look.

"What was that?" Percival asked.

Benedicta's gaze returned to the fire. She was silent for a while before she spoke. "There is something else about this land. Something else that has forever bounded me to it."

Unexpectedly, Mahavir was the one to ask. "And what is that?"

"He speaks!" Alcaeus exclaimed, raising his waterskin up in the air as if it where a goblet filled with wine.

She looked up and momentarily glanced at all their faces, a small smile tugging at her lips. "The potential to become something extraordinary."

* * *

"Benedicta? Are you wake?"

"Mm. No," she mumbled.

She could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Then why are you talking?"

"Because you are talking to me." she rolled onto her side so she could face him, but kept her eyes closed. "I do not know about you, but I find it rude to ignore someone when they address you."

"Is that so? I would have happily carried on sleeping."

"Your lack of propriety worries me, my friend."

He chuckled lightly, a sound that he always seemed to make when he was around her, and rolled onto his side and rested his head on his arm. He looked at her seemingly peaceful face for a silent moment. He learned that, when it came to Benedicta, appearances were not always a source to rely upon. He knew, for instance, that behind that mask of peace and ease was deep embedded worry, fear, and anxiety. But of course, being the person that she was, she would rather carry her troubles herself than share them—not because she was afraid of being seen as weak, but because she did not want to burden others with them.

Her whole essence, he thought, was an enigma in itself.

She was beautiful with the untamable curly hair of a Sarmatian, yet with the yellow-brown color of a Saxon; the pail complexion of a Woad, yet with the defined facial features of a Roman. Oh, yes, she was beautiful; but even such outer beauty could not compare to the beauty she possessed within. She was also young, but behind that youth was a fierceness, a wisdom, and an unwavering loyalty that was beyond her twenty-four years and that he had seldom seen in others.

He remembered the beginnings of their present company—how the others had believed for weeks that he and Benedicta were romantically involved and their skepticism upon being informed that they harbored no such feelings for each other. It was not after months that he had been part of the company that the others—the others except for Benedicta, for he had known her for a long time before then—finally knew why he was the way he was. It had exactly three years since _that day_. He disappeared that morning and did not return until midday the following day.

The others had asked Benedicta about him. Benedicta, feeling that it was not her place to reveal anything, had respected his privacy and said nothing. No, she simply waited for him to return for it was then that she decided that, if they were to trust one other, they had to know everything there was to know about the other.

It was that same night after he returned that she sat them all down around a fire on a hill under the dark Sarmatian sky. That night five years ago, they told their stories. Despite all the time that had passed, he remembered it as vividly as if he were reliving it presently. They lay each other bare before the other and unveiled their scars and still healing wounds. At first, he had been hesitant to trust the others with his secrets, but after some gentle prodding by

Benedicta, he finally relented. He told them of his childhood in Britain, of his

Roman father and of his Woad mother, of his years in Rome, of his loyalty to God. He told them about _that _accursed day, about _her_, about his loss, and about the death of his faith.

Afterwards, he felt like his burden had become slightly lighter. He had listened to them with the same intent as they had listened to him. He realized then, when they had all told their stories and sat in meditative silence, that like him, the others had all undertaken the path they were on in order to forget and to heal. He realized that it could be the start of a strong brotherhood and so it was.

At the end, he was grateful towards Benedicta because he no longer had to stand the questioning gazes of the others whenever he would disappear while he was in one of his foul moods and he was thankful towards the men because he never once received a look of pity from them. Instead, they had offered their understanding and, if he ever was in need of it, their support. He responded in kind to them.

They all knew, however, that, if it had not been for Benedicta, they would still be as lost as they were before that telltale night. If it had not been for the wisdom she possessed and for knowing when to keep silent and when to speak; when to push and when to be patient, they would simply be a couple of outsiders, of strangers who had stuck together simply because they did not belong anywhere instead of the close friends that they were now. For that reasons, they held her in the high regard that they did.

He sighed as his mind came back to his original thoughts. How easy it would be if it were so; if he truly loved Benedicta in that sense. If he had fallen for her instead of -

"Come back, Aurelius."

He looked at her and found her staring back at him, the fire behind him illuminated in her eyes. She reached out her hand and his met hers half way.

"What troubles you?"

He sighed once again. "This mission... It is suicide."

It was her turn to sigh. "I do not know what else to tell you that I have not told you before. I know that our mission is a dangerous one. I said it from the start, but Merlin needs our help; our people need our help. You were born to this land, Aurelius; or have you forgotten? We must trust in God-"

He pulled his hand away. "Do not speak to me about God, Benedicta."

He lay on his back and stared at the cave ceiling; or perhaps he was simply staring at darkness. A tense silence settled between then. The more it dragged on, the more he cursed himself for his outburst. He was a little startled when Benedicta laid her head on his chest, over his heart, and wrapped her arm around him. He did not waste time in encircling her with his arms, doing so as if by instinct.

"You are my closest friend, Aurelius," she said quietly. "There is nobody that knows me better than you do."

"Benedi-"

"Forgive me."

"There...There is nothing to forgive, Benedicta."

"There is a sadness in you— a pain that is beyond my power to ease and an emptiness that I cannot fill. Even after all this time..."

He suddenly found it hard to swallow.

"I wish I could help carry your burden-"

"You do. You cannot begin to comprehend how much you do."

She raised her head and smiled sadly at him. "But it is not enough, is it? For that emptiness is still there. But I realized sometime ago that that emptiness in your heart is not mine to fill, Aurelius. Everyone has their own cross to carry. You have yours as well as I have mine." She laid her head back on his chest right where it was before, listening to the steady beating of his heart as she has so often done after they had escaped some danger to ascertain that it was still there beating away. "I have you and the men to help ease the burden, but there is only so much others can do for you." There was a beat of silence. "When all else fails, my faith sustains me."

"I am no longer a man of faith, Benedicta. You know that," he murmured. "I do not need it. Everything I need is right here with you and the men."

"And when this is all over?"

He frowned. "What?"

"When we see this mission through; when we all go our separate ways, what then?"

"I do not fo-"

"I will have my faith. What will you have, Aurelius?"

_'Nothing,'_ he thought to himself with a heavy heart, yet he settled for an "I do not know."

"That seems like a sad life to lead, my friend," she murmured as if having read his thoughts and knowing that that was the true answer.

There was another lapse of silence.

"Benedicta?"

He received no reply. She had fallen asleep, but her words stayed with him as if she were repeating them over and over. He closed his eyes tightly.

_'It seems like a sad life to lead...'_

"It is," he whispered brokenly.


End file.
